Loathing in Comfort Black China Tea
by Echo the Insane
Summary: Severus Snape has one last cup of tea. SSHP. One-shot; could be seen as Slash. Beta'd


Loathing in Comfort (Black China Tea)

Author: Echo the Insane(echotheinsane@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Severus Snape has one last cup of tea.

Pairing: SS / HP

Category: Angst

Warnings: I consider this Slash, or at least Pre-slash. It does not have to be seen this way, however. The final decision is up to you.

__

"Tea tastes best in the winter, when cold bites through to the marrow of you bones and leaves you breathless. It tastes best when you're alone, with only the hiss of falling snow as your soundtrack."

Severus Snape was old and only growing older. His once coal black hair was slowly going gray, his once thick skin thinning as it grew paler year by year; the muscle beneath it slowly deteriorating, his fingernails stained from years of experimentation in Potions research. Worry and exhaustion had stolen much of his weight, leaving him little more than a walking skeleton, hidden beneath the black folds of his signature robes. He had added another layer of woolen cloth to those robes this year, yet the cold still seemed to seep a little further in. 

There was but one window in his chambers; large and picturesque, its fixtures caked with flaking paint. Today, he left the curtains pulled back, his eyes drawn to the snow falling outdoors. His massive stone fireplace danced with a merry flame, the log crackling as it shifted behind the iron-mesh screen. Before him sat his plain wooden coffee table, a tray of tea and untouched biscuits seated in the middle.

Steaming tea lifted the chill from within him and he often indulged the small bit of comfort it brought to him. Black China tea was the best, and thus, the only tea Severus would touch, let alone drink. He brought the cup to his lips and paused, letting the steam warm his cheeks. Another little comfort he kept to himself.

Across from him sat Harry Potter, silently loathing his very existence, a hot cup of Black China clutched in his cold-pinkened hands. He seemed windswept that day, his always-untidy hair even more untidy than usual, his skin flushed and mouth chapped from the cold. There was a little drop of blood forming on top of one of the many small cracks on his pale bottom lip. He was still in his school robes and smelt of sweat and greenhouse dirt, making Severus' nose scrunch. His eyes were still green, with those horrible glasses still perched on his nose. Severus knew that if he looked, he could see the outline of knobby-knees hidden beneath the youth's robes.

Yet time had aged them both, Severus acknowledged. He knew every line upon his unwanted companion's brow, saw the way the shadow-pits beneath the youth's eyes seemed to spread and deepen with every visit. He could count the creases around Potter's lips and knew the exact way they would move when he sipped his tea. The hands had aged as well; scarred and still small, thin bones with thinning skin stretched over them like patched bits of weather-beaten leather - so much like his own.

Upstairs, plots were being hatched, daring plans were being discussed, fears were being aired, and hushed whispers were being exchanged. They were going to offer them both up like sacrificial lambs, Severus knew. He could not muster the energy to be angry, so he sipped his tea instead.

Harry Potter sat relaxed across from him and he loathed the boy silently, quietly thanking him when Potter poured him another cup of Black China. Potter's hand shook - whether from cold or from fear, Severus did not know nor care.

Tomorrow there would be no tea and both were painfully aware of that. There would be no silent loathing in the comforts of his dungeons. 

But today was filled with picture frame windows of pure white scenes, a day for merrily crackling fires and the warm smell of Black China Tea. Harry Potter sat across from him, calmly sipping at his tea, ignoring the subtle shake of his own hands, fully aware that Severus was loathing him with ever fiber of his being. Severus sat drinking his own tea, comfortable in the knowledge that Potter was loathing him, too.

Today was a day for loathing in comfort, with Black China Tea and Harry Potter sitting across from him, listening to the crackling fire, with snow falling in the out-of-doors. Tomorrow would come, but for the moment, tomorrow could wait.

Severus sipped his tea and leaned back in his chair, comfortable.

A/N: Is it Slash? As the warning said, I'll leave that up to you. I'd love some reviews. Tell me your thoughts, ne? Good, bad, reasonable, terrible. Anything, though I'd prefer constructive criticism to Flaming. I hate getting reviews that say, "You're fic sucks" and don't tell me why. You're wasting you time, and mine, by writing those sorts of things. Thanks again. Thanks also to my wonderful Beta, Jo. F. - you're a star, my friend!

  
~ Echo the Insane(echotheinsane@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: Is an utterly useless thing to do. If J.K.R. wanted to sue me, this little disclaimer wouldn't stop her. In fact, it wouldn't help me in court. Waste of space. *sighs* I don't own Harry Potter. Yeah. Obviously.


End file.
